


When Louis met Cristiano Ronaldo

by anonymousorly



Category: One Direction (Band)
Genre: Canon Compliant, Football | Soccer, Louiano Tomlinaldo, M/M, Real Madrid CF, Spain, Take Me Home Tour, madrid
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-10-15
Updated: 2016-10-15
Packaged: 2018-08-22 15:01:15
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 6,341
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/8290040
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/anonymousorly/pseuds/anonymousorly
Summary: One Direction's TMH Tour was in Madrid for three days, two shows, and one sexy footballer.OR: There is not one fic about Louis/Cristiano and it's very disappointing so I took it upon myself to do it because it just isn't right that the tag "Cristiano Ronaldo/Louis Tomlinson" has zero results okay?





	

The day they met Cristiano Ronaldo was the highlight of Louis’ year and the lowlight of Harry’s. Don’t misunderstand, Harry appreciated the presence and conversation of, arguably, the best football player in history and was fascinated being up close as Real Madrid ran a few drills. He understood the high excitement Louis and the boys felt at this chance of meeting sport greatness and the admiration in their eyes as they gaped shamelessly.

The session was going smoothly – all boys spaced apart across the field in a pentagon – until Cristiano jogged over to Louis and touched his upper thigh as he explained something, which it didn’t matter to Harry what he instructed Louis to do because _why_ was he touching him?

Even from about 10 meters away, Harry saw how Louis _beamed_ and blushed, demonstrating what Cristiano said and kicking the ball swiftly to him. The ball approached but he couldn’t look away as Cristiano patted Louis’ shoulder and Louis took a step closer to his side. Only when Liam hollered “Haz!” did he turn focus on the ball, foot slipping over the round top in attempt of stopping the roll and tripping passed instead. In all fairness, despite the stumble, the ball _did stop_ and he _didn’t_ fall onto the ground to do so.

He glanced toward Louis for a reaction – humor, concern, anything – but there was none. Not for him, anyway, because Cristiano had Louis’ full attention complete with his classic amused reaction of rubbing the side of his jaw with bright eyes and laughter. Cristiano must’ve enjoyed his company or athleticism or smile, staying by his side the rest of the session.

After practice finished, Zayn remarked while exhaling his cigarette smoke, “They hit it off, didn’t they?”

Across the lot, Louis and Cristiano exchanged contact information and farewells while the others waited for him outside the bus. Just as Louis protected Harry around semi-flirtatious strangers and over-friendly accomplices, Harry wanted to protect Louis against Cristiano.

He and Louis had a sort of _thing_ ; a mutual unspoken relationship that was intimate, not overly sexual, and definitely not exclusive. They always shared a comfort and refused to let it be threatened. Louis exerted his defense more frequently due to Harry’s kind spirit and mild nativity of the world. 

But as Cristiano hugged Louis in a long embrace, Harry could give that defense a run for his money.

Liam murmured an agreement and Niall tugged on the sleeve of Harry’s new Madrid jersey. “All right?” he asked, voice gentle and face concerned.

“Yeah,” he responded, climbing on the bus after Louis pulled away from Cristiano.

They got to enjoy the luxury of a hotel for two nights while in Madrid. After Harry and Niall declined invites to go clubbing that evening, the arrangements for their two adjoining rooms were decided undisputedly with the shared door propped open by one of Zayn’s older pair of boots.

Sun set and street lights bright below, Harry scrolled through his Twitter feed while Niall talked with his mother. The other three walked in and he looked up, raising an eyebrow in surprise because they spent a solid hour and a half getting ready but didn’t look like they had. Before he had a chance, Zayn asked exactly what he was thinking: “Ya both seriously going out wearing those shirts?”

Louis rolled his eyes and Niall laughed, apologizing to his mom. “Liam is a star and I am a flower.”

“Our asses are quite fit,” Liam added, looking down over his shoulder to admire his shape. “Snug and voluptuous.”

“Not the word I would choose.” Zayn nudged Louis’ rib. “When did CR say he was getting there?”

Harry felt as though his heart stopped yet pounded inside his ear drums, blood rushing fast to his head and vision hazy for a moment. Louis answered but the buzzing only he could hear was too loud for him to make it out. What was happening? Why was he suddenly nauseous and sweaty? Why was “CR” presumably going to where Louis was going?

He stood up steadily to get a drink from the mini bar, back turned as the group chatted enthusiastically behind him. He caught a few words but they mostly sounded like static. The last two years were just the two of them, so his shock made sense. Louis and Cristiano evidently attracted one another and he knew of Louis’ boy-like crush on the superstar, so the situation made sense. What didn’t make sense was Louis’ complete 180 shift of attention away from him for the first time.

He emptied a small 50mL bottle of vodka into a glass with a splash of rum, filling the rest with orange and pineapple juice. He mixed the liquids with a short black stirrer next to the coffee pot and took a long drink.

“Hazza.” Harry spun around and looked at Louis in the ridiculous button-up that showed off his arms. “Sure ya don’t wanna join us?”

Harry lifted the rim to his lips and shook his head, avoiding a response similar to _not if he’s there, no_.

The three left in loud voices and Niall finished up with his mother. He took the cocktail as Harry lied next to him and curled into his side. 

At the nightclub, Cristiano was already seated in the private balcony by the time they walked in with a few crew members following. Standing, he greeted Louis with a two-arm hug and the other two with a single. He smiled and shook hands as Liam introduced him to each tour roadie, ignoring how Louis just stared at him the whole time.

“You’re quite polite,” Louis shouted over the music once everyone was acquainted and went their own ways. After sitting down and thanking the waiter for bringing his drink, he added, “Ya sure you don’t want any?”

Cristiano grinned – Louis may never not melt at those sexy dimples and cheekbones – and angled his glass of water in a faux-toast. “Never had one.”

“That’s...admirable,” he commended, though feeling stupid as he took a drink. Creasing his eyebrows, he considered aloud, “Aren’t clubs, full of sloppy fools and obnoxious intoxication, unappealing then?”

Cristiano shrugged a shoulder before eventually explaining, “The appeal to me is different than everyone else. You, your friends, this whole place...wants to unwind, relax, let loose, have fun, drink, be silly.” They both glanced at Zayn dancing in the corner with a woman and passing a joint to her. “That’s your appeal.”

“What’s yours?”

He shifted closer to Louis and stretched an arm along the back of the couch. “The distraction. Music, lights, people, action, motion...it quiets my brain for a while.”

Setting the finished drink down, Louis leaned against him and agreed, “Tearing away from your mind and concentrating on any...of the _so much_ happening around you.”

Cristiano wrapped his arm around Louis’ shoulders and grazed his lips over his ear, “Do you dance?”

Louis cackled – yes, cackled like an evil witch in a fairy tale. “N-No. Not at all. Not even a little bit.” He thanked the waiter again and took a big gulp, suddenly on edge. “In fact, I do the complete opposite of dancing and that doesn’t make sense but that’s how much I do not dance.”

Challenge accepted, Cristiano thought. “You make a strong case.” He rose to his feet and held his hand out. “May I?”

Fear creeping in, Louis widened his eyes and stammered, “You-You don’t seem to understand–”

“I quite do.”

“–I can _not_ dance–”

“I beg to differ.”

“–that I messed up the sprinkler during winter formal–”

“A complicated choreographic sequence.”

“– _and_ twisted Niall’s ankle after stepping on his foot–”

“Louis.” That stopped him. Hearing his name in that enduring tone and silky accent turned him on and shut him up. “Dance with me.”

Louis downed the rest of his liquid courage and took Cristiano’s hand to be led to the dance floor. The crowd was large but compact, bodies squished together and sweat mixing into the sweet smell of weed above. Cristiano looked magical among them, an attractive glow and handsome beauty for only Louis’ eyes. Getting to the middle, Cristiano faced Louis and grabbed his other hand to bring both up on his shoulders.

Louis swallowed hard and Cristiano held his hips with a small smile. “I-I’m so nervous.”

“Don’t be.”

Cristiano began moving and Louis remained frozen except his arms that went with Cristiano’s body. He looked around in hopes of finding someone to watch and copy what he was supposed to do. Luck wasn’t on his side though because all he saw was hard sexual grinding, flailing arms and jumping feet, and hair whipping.

Cristiano tightened his grip and forced Louis’ torso to curve, determined to eliminate the tension and discomfort under his fingers. Mouth to Louis’ ear again, he yelled, “Close your eyes.”

Louis did as told. The back of his eyelids seeped colors from frantic lasers and strobing lights in dots and waves. In combination with the alcohol, the effect made him light headed and think about Harry. He knew how Harry liked to feel after a few drinks and wished he was there with him so they could feel it together. 

“Close your mind.” Louis opened an eye, skeptical. “Do it.”

Louis exhaled through his nose and focused on...focused on _how_ he was supposed to do that, exactly. If he got drunk enough, he could because all awareness would be directed to his numb body and blurry surroundings, appetite and affection, the behavior and appeal of others (read: Harry). He was nowhere near that level and instead focused on becoming self-aware: Cristiano holding his hipbones, sticky floor thumping below his feet, bass pounding up his legs, Cristiano, the sexiest football player, wanting to dance with him, Harry not there.

If Cristiano wanted poison in the form of him dancing, then terrible dancing poison was what he’d get. 

Louis relaxed his muscles and let Cristiano’s hands sway his hips. It wasn’t enough for him, though, because the rest of his body wasn’t doing much of anything. He knew Cristiano’s body _was_ , could feel it from his hands on Cristiano’s shoulders, so he pressed his chest against his and moved with him.

Cristiano smiled and slid his hands to Louis’ lower back, trapping him between his arms and yelling, “You went outside of your comfort zone.”

Louis finally opened his eyes and brought their foreheads together. “Dunno. I’m pretty comfortable right now.”

Cristiano laughed and Louis saw sparks just before they kissed. It was light, a contrast to all the elements around them which seemingly disappeared. They stayed that way for a moment, no tongue and no advancement; just lips perfectly lined up and the other’s scent up close. When their jaws widened a little and the tips of their tongues met, Louis wiggled his toes to contain the glee he felt. But when Cristiano’s palms curved around his ass, all bets were off and Louis went for it, rubbing their hips together and kissing harder.

They returned to the balcony area not five minutes later, on the couch and each other. Louis straddled Cristiano’s thighs, fingers tangled through his hair. Cristiano’s hands roamed restlessly beneath the silk flower shirt, spine to abs to shoulders to pecks. The quiet sighs he felt inside his mouth from Louis made him more aroused, especially with Louis’ erection on his stomach.

“Tommo!” Whining, Louis slowly glanced over his shoulder to see Liam and Zayn with most of the group they arrived with. “Le’sgo!”

Louis shook his head and turned back to Cristiano, resuming their kisses because he was buzzed and not ready to stop yet. They’d been at the club for almost four hours although it seemed like one to him. He wasn’t ready to part ways for the night, to get up from the warm lap, to leave this incredible man who willingly sought him out. He wanted more – more time, more kisses, more privacy, more contact, more _Cristiano_.

“Tommo!” Liam’s stern voice that Louis was _far_ too familiar with caused him to look over again except adding a pout. It didn’t work. “We’re leaving.”

“Um momento, por favor,” Cristiano called out, both Louis and Zayn sighing dreamily and Liam huffing. He gently turned Louis’ cheek to face him and brushed his thumb across the smooth skin. “You are a delight, Louis. Thank you for sharing such a beautiful time with me, but it is late.”

Louis whined louder and leaned into Cristiano’s touch. “Must we?” he whispered and although Cristiano didn’t hear the words, he read them from his dark red lips.

He nodded and placed a light kiss on Louis’ opposite cheek. They didn’t know that kiss, that small gesture, would become famous across the world in mere hours.

***

Headlines on every single gossip blog, tabloid website, and social media read “CRISTIANO AND LOUIS” in all caps lock with the accompanying photo of their farewell the next morning. The subheadings differed – ‘Athlete and Artist whirlwind romance,’ ‘World’s hottest bachelors out for one hot night,’ ‘Kissing and dancing across Madrid,’ ‘Vote now: Louiano or Tomlinaldo?’ – but all implicated the same.

Zayn and Niall were the first awake. Zayn mostly smoked the previous night and fell asleep easily, waking to a rested body and refreshed mind. Niall came over for the complimentary catered breakfast about ten minutes after, sitting across the table from Zayn and yawning groggily. “Thought you’d be last up.”

“Nah.” He hovered over his phone, one hand scrolling and the other scooping cereal. “Had one drink. Shit don’t mix well, mate.”

Niall grumbled inaudibly and started mounding food onto his plate, yawning again before articulating, “How was it?”

Zayn’s face lit up as if he was waiting to be asked (which he was) and expertly slid his iPhone across the glossy table. “See for yourself.”

Niall looked at the screen of Google’s news search, articles with bold titles about _Cristiano and Louis_ and identical picture thumbnails listed from four pages worth of sources. “Holy sh– What?”

“I know.” Just then, Louis walked out of his room in track pants and Zayn started laughing. “Good morning, Mrs. Ronaldo.”

Louis playfully smacked the back of Zayn’s head and heavily fell into a seat next to Niall, squeezing his knee as a greeting. Pouring himself water, he asked, “Li up?”

Zayn grunted through his mouthful of cereal and Niall answered, “Not yet. Did you see what the Internet is saying about you?”

Arching an eyebrow and grabbing three flapjacks for his plate, he sarcastically replied, “No, uh, I just woke up and, er, thought I’d fill myself with food before, uh, reading blogs full of shit.”

“They have you two kissing.”

“Yeah, well.” Louis poured syrup over the cakes generously, not bothering to glance at the phone for an explanation. “That happened.”

Harry came in and Niall quickly gave Zayn back his phone. He couldn’t be the one who broke the news to Harry. He spent the whole night with him, talking things through in attempt to figure out what Harry truly felt and honesty wanted. He probably knew Harry’s feelings before he himself realized them, but he’d never let anyone know that.

“Come hither, Haz, for I bring forth some news,” Zayn announced and Harry sat beside him with an eyeroll. Holding his phone up, he corrected himself, “Louis news.”

Harry didn’t look long to comprehend everything on the screen: the large blunt words and high-resolution photograph, Louis’ shirt hiding Cristiano’s hands, the look of pure joy on his face, on top of him suggestively, hair messy, lips wet…

Louis watched Harry carefully. Sure, they weren’t a “couple” but this was the first time one of them went out with someone else. It was new territory and he wanted to be sure that it was handled right. They hadn’t talked about it before or defined any rules; it just so happened they were only interested in each other until Cristiano.

Zayn ran into Liam’s room to get him up and Harry grabbed breakfast, ignoring Niall and Louis’ eyes. Of course he was a little hurt but there was no fault or blame. He could do whatever he wanted and Louis could do whatever he wanted...it just so happened Louis exercised his right first.

“You okay?” Louis mumbled between chews.

Harry looked not at Louis but Niall. He couldn't _not_ imagine Cristiano touching every inch of Louis’ chest and having the bare upper half in front of him made it worse. The corners of Niall's lips twitched, his usual sign of concern or thought, before breaking Harry's stare so Louis wouldn't get suspicious.

“He's a good catch.” Harry cleared his throat and scratched his feet together anxiously under the table. “Nice choice.”

Louis gaped at Harry, stunned and puzzled. That's all he had to say? No, that couldn't be it, there had to be more he wasn't quite ready to say. For how many nights they spent together, talks they had, memories made, kisses shared, secrets whispered, touches hidden, scars shown, moans muffled… Harry had to have more than six words worth of opinion...right?

“We’re hanging out. That’s all,” he clarified and Harry shrugged because the photograph depicted comparably to the unique way that they would “hang out.”

Although Louis had done nothing wrong or even did much with Cristiano at all to begin with, the tightness in his chest and emptiness in Harry's eyes made him feel otherwise.

Rehearsal was mediocre and uneventful, equating to low-grade One Direction. They sounded great and on pitch but everything else was missing: jokes, laughter, teases, eye contact, personality, interaction. The core of what defined them was absent and worrisome to everyone. They could pull it together for the show as they always had, but the fact remained that things weren't quite right.

The stage manager concluded practice with a hesitant sounding, “Very...professional,” and dismissed them.

Liam beckoned the four with a whistle and wave. “That was shit,” he blankly criticized, as if he didn't want to express his uneasiness or frustration but only his disappointment.

Arms crossed, Louis loudly whispered, “Good one, Sir Holmes.”

“What are _we_ ,” Liam continued with a glare, “going to do about it?”

They stood in an unproportional oval in silence, the production and set teams exiting the stage. Liam looked from one face to the next, expectant and waiting: Zayn flashed him a goofy smile, Niall glanced at Harry, who was biting his thumb and staring off, and Louis tapped behind his ear impatiently. He groaned at the lack of reaction, “Come on, mates, give me something.”

Louis muttered under his breath that he'd give Liam something painful but Niall spoke over him, “We will, Liam. Tonight we'll give you everything.”

At that, Harry snapped out of his daze and smirked, throwing two long arms around Liam’s waist. “Yeah, Liam, we'll give _you everything_.”

“Shut up.”

They grabbed their bags backstage and headed outside to the service lot, semi trucks and trailers unpacked of equipment and some still unloading in a line along the dock. The escort van waited in the same spot as when they arrived, parked off to the side and wobbly as they climbed in.

All the boys focused on their phones, van silent as tweets, texts, emails were typed and sent. The other three in the back row, Louis situated himself beside Zayn and opened the new unread text from Cristiano with a small smile.

They sent a couple messages earlier that morning about the news they caused and photo they took. Cristiano had all-day practice and by the time he had lunch break, Louis was in the middle of soundcheck. Then, by the time he was done training, Louis would be filming until the fan greets and performance. Their schedules conflicted but Louis was determined to see him as much as possible while he could...while in Madrid.

Louis started his reply just as Zayn’s head fell onto his shoulder, phone forgotten on his lap and glancing at Louis’ screen before shutting his eyes. “‘es comin’ tonight?”

Harry's ears perked up at the quiet “maybe.” Again? Cristiano again? More Cristiano? He thought it was a one-night-only type of deal...that life would resume...that it was something to not worry about. He also thought _he-and-Louis_ was something to not worry about. Had he thought wrong?

Harry leaned forward so he could look over Louis’ shoulder and down at his phone. He couldn't help it; the curiosity of _why Cristiano_ (okay, he knew why) and the apprehension from bewilderment made him want answers and resolve. It wasn't not his business either because they were Harry-and-Louis with an undefined intimate relationship, therefore making it his business.

Reading the characters was impossible due to the small font size but adding to the hurdle was how _many_ there were. The exchange showed only two text squares, each on opposite sides and taking up half the thread.

Louis looked at Harry, nose brushing his cheek, and smirked coyly in humor. “Can I help you?”

Before he could respond, Louis turned his body and ruffled Harry's hair with both hands. Phone flying to the floor and Zayn whining from annoyance, he teased over Harry's laughter, “Little snoop, aren't ya?”

Harry tried impassively to stop Louis but not really. Liam commented it would make a good stage name and for the first time all day, things felt normal and _Cristiano_ left his mind.

Cristiano ended up attending the show, hidden backstage and smiling whenever Louis looked over. Territorial the whole night, Harry eyed Louis when they separated to hit their marks and immediately closed any distance when they didn't. Louis wasn't dim and picked up on what Harry was doing the second he sang “Katy Perry” and bumped their hips. It was okay, though, because that was _his_ Harry and what _they_ did. Not even Cristiano Ronaldo changed that...until the performance ended.

Following the final bow and releasing hands, Louis rushed offstage into Cristiano’s arms and Harry trailed behind the others slowly. If Harry had a choice, he'd rather listen to the arena of shrill screams for a week straight than watch Louis-and-Cristiano for a minute, but that double-edged sword ended up stabbing him: Louis didn't go with them to the van but to a Maserati convertible parked behind with Cristiano.

They locked eyes once Louis sat on the leather passenger seat and Cristiano walked to the driver's side after shutting the door. He wanted to shake his head, mouth out _don't go_ , ask him not to...but he willed himself to do nothing. The paparazzi photo taunted his urge to act, the visual of Louis’ happiness combined with the image of sensuality still fresh in his mind, and restrained him from doing so. 

Louis saw the uneasiness on Harry's face distinctly but needed more than that, for him to do something, anything at all if he wanted him to stay. Maybe it was unfair to put that burden on his sweet young Harry. Maybe it was wrong to expect Harry to act in a way usually reserved for him. Maybe he should’ve foreseen something like this happening and talked about it early on so they wouldn’t be in a weird web. But Harry hadn’t spoken about Cristiano all day and didn't start now.

Cristiano started the engine and Louis saw Harry’s panic, but both their minds were already made up. So, he gave the smallest of waves before they drove off.

Niall wrapped an arm around Harry and led him to the van.

***

The next morning, Louis arrived at the arena first and sat in the front row to wait, production and technical staff already working on resetting the arena from last night. Cristiano gave him clean clothes, sweatpants sagging from his hips despite the drawstring tied tightly and jumper extending passed his center fingers, and a new duffle to carry his old pair.

He had texted Liam to bring jeans on the drive over, Cristiano dropping him off on his way to training and departing with an espresso-flavored kiss that was borderline vulgar.

He typed an email to his mother but kept pausing because it didn't feel right when images of Cristiano’s sweaty chest and tight legs veered his attention. His thumbs would hover above the keyboard and eyes became glassy, momentarily consumed by the memory.

He sent the email once the boys showed up about an hour later, mostly finished aside from minor details that become irrelevant after venturing five EU countries away. Liam and Niall took a seat on each side of him, denim dropping on his lap with a smirk. Crossing the stage, Zayn shouted an acknowledgement and Harry barely gave him a glance before they disappeared backstage.

Louis sighed, “Where they off to?”

“Filming summin’ with Paul.” Niall nudged him gently. “And your night?”

Liam snorted at the lack of subtlety and Louis sighed louder.

His night had been modest yet special, one that he couldn't bring himself to kiss and tell...his last with Cristiano in Madrid. Both had long days and fell asleep after a couple hours of talking.

“It's a shame we can't explore our chemistry more,” Cristiano had whispered when they woke up and Louis agreed.

They knew from the start that _this_ was temporary and impossible to continue. They were famous figures traveling the world for public careers and neither were naive nor willing enough to pursue further. He adored the man but fate didn't hold the cards for a possibility of Louis-and-Cristiano. And that was okay, _they_ would be okay.

“You have something special with Harry,” Cristiano declared quietly, bumping his nose against Louis’.

“He's.” Louis licked his lips and searched for the correct words. “He's...very important to me. I think I'm in love with him sometimes.”

Cristiano snickered, “Sometimes? You think?”

“I dunno.” He covered his face with his hands, exhaling loudly. “I dunno. I believed I was in love before but Harry…’es special. It's a different feeling.”

“It's supposed to be,” Cristiano explained and gently lowered Louis’ wrists, interlocking their fingers. “Don't let him go.”

Louis had given a nod, a silent promise that he’d do his best.

There was no way he was going to share his beautiful time with Cristiano and finally answered, “Slept.”

“You're no fun,” Niall pouted.

Soundcheck went neutral once again but Liam doesn't bring it up this time – their last show came around and he trusted that it would again.

Shortly after lunch, they attended two radio interviews and a charity event. Harry kept near Zayn throughout the day, not failing to notice the oversized shirt and unfamiliar bag with CR7 stitched on the strap. He couldn't understand Louis and his willingness to take off with Cristiano. He began doubting himself, rethinking every moment, wondering if they even meant anything or were misinterpreted as lies...if he actually _knew_ Louis at all.

The Louis he knew had eyes only for him unless they glared at someone he deemed threatening. The Louis he knew wouldn't be spending so much time away from him, leaving him to fend for himself. The Louis he knew kissed him before bed, kissed him awake, irritated Liam for fun, argued about “street cred” with Zayn, and battled Niall in movie dialogue lines. The Louis he knew wouldn't abandon him for two days after nearly two years.

The Louis he knew emerged at dinner: pulling the chair from the table for him, shifting his own until their arms lined up and skin grazed, ordering iced tea and sparkling water for them both, giving him the crackers that came with the soup... It perplexed him as much as it was welcomed.

***

Relief spread through Harry once they departed the city, cozy in their bunks and leaving Spain behind. He woke up in Portugal to Zayn's snores and Louis’ kiss, trying desperately to forget who they had kissed 24 hours prior and hoping suitcase organization would do the trick.

He and Niall had mindlessly stuffed everything from their hotel room inside whichever bag was available. The task of sorting afterwards was one Niall likely wouldn't do for another three weeks, leaving Harry to do it.

Sitting in the back lounge and making two stacks, he heard Niall and Liam noisily stomp of the bus. He wasn't sure where Zayn had gone after breakfast and any wonder about Louis’ whereabouts rested when his head poked in the doorway. 

“Come outside,” Louis eagerly requested. “Lisbon is gorgeous.”

Harry folded a shirt and placed it atop Niall's pile. “Lemme finish first.”

Louis sat beside him and they were alone for the first time since before Madrid. An awkward tension lingered overhead unsurprisingly because, after Cristiano, they obviously _needed_ to have “the talk.” He knew Harry was upset, saw the sadness and turmoil at what happened. His intention was never to hurt him – he just wanted a little fun with Cristiano and that was it – but he had, and he vowed never to do so again.

He blurted, “We aren't exclusive,” and took Harry off guard, freezing midfold. He repeated himself, almost to make sure he spoke aloud and said it correctly the first time.

Harry softly answered, “We aren't.”

“Yet...it wasn't right.”

“It wasn't,” Harry confirmed. They were on the same page – they always were – but needed to turn onto the next one and both were unsure if they would arrive at the same place.

He wanted to hear Louis before he expressed himself. For all he knew, he and Cristiano were exclusive and he was as good as gone.

“So, Cristiano Ronaldo,” Harry started and Louis swallowed hard, scrambling to brace himself for the worst and finding peace in, “he's kind of...old.”

Louis blinked, wondering if he was joking or serious. It seemed bizarre that the first thing Harry had to say about Cristiano wasn't his feelings, thoughts, questions, or any topic but age. He _had_ to hear that again. “What?”

“‘es old.” Nope, he heard right. “30-something. Perhaps 32?”

“He is not yet 30,” Louis chuckled and pressed a palm to his forehead.

Pairing two socks onto his pile, Harry justified, “Close enough to it. You fancy older men.”

Louis couldn't believe this conversation and the words from Harry's mouth were actually happening. He found it mildly silly because he had never been with an older man before, so the accusation held no evidence. On the other hand, he was astonished at the judgment.

Eyebrows high, he countered pointedly, “Actually, I apparently _don't_.”

Harry knew the reference was about him but remained skeptical of directly addressing himself before Cristiano, keeping his eyes diverted. “One exception does not a pattern break.”

“Harry,” Louis snarled. It sounded as though Harry tried to be philosophical and wise but came off as mocking and ridiculed.

“What? It's okay to prefer older men.”

Louis had enough. Immature behavior was easy to fall into in attempt of concealing emotions. He had enough of the concealment. He had enough of the apathetic comments and suppressed truths. He had enough of walking on eggshells and avoiding _this_ subject. He didn't want a repeat of Harry being affected by his actions and behaving this way.

He demanded, “What about us?”

Harry rubbed his lips together. The short question was anticipated but the straightforward approach was not, especially with how evasive they'd been about their bond. Picking lint off a sock’s toe to occupy his mind from commotion, he restated faintly, “What _about_ us?”

“Well, I like you.” Louis inhaled deeply, the beating hard inside his chest. “Do you like me?”

Harry got insulted because, “No shit, Lou, I've been unofficially dedicated and completely in love with you since day one. How could you even think–”

“Did I not deserve to hear it? To know it?” Suddenly vulnerable and disheartened, Louis peered down at his lap. “You just sort of...let me go.”

“No, I…” Harry's thoughts couldn't keep up. He had nothing...had done nothing.

Despite feeling protective against Cristiano, he had done absolutely nothing about it except watch, wait, hope. Louis knew he wanted to react, too, and watched, waited, hoped. He was barely 18 years old with no more than 3 romantic partners before Louis, his knowledge extremely limited on how to handle a discussion like that and putting him at a disadvantage.

Harry found it difficult because he always followed Louis’ lead. Louis would interrupt a flirting interviewer, pull him close during a shoot if the photographer was particularly handsome or complimentary, defend his behavior and counter criticism, touch his back when he got overwhelmed and escort him on red carpets, stare subtly so he could smile when he finally noticed…

Basically, guide him through life. Then entered Cristiano and the guiding stopped, or so it appeared anyway.

“I– You went, though,” he reasoned, not in defense but ambivalence.

“I wouldn't have.” His body tensed, shoulders hunching and arms folding inward. “I asked.”

Louis tried distantly for Harry to guide _him_ – interrupt the flirting at the nightclub, defend his behavior the following morning and counter the news reports, touch his back and guide him away from the Maserati…

Perception slowly exposed within Harry's brain so he could grasp the concept portrayed by Louis: for himself, the concept was strictly between Louis and Cristiano; for Louis, the concept was Harry's acceptance and indifference.

“I asked you to go with. I asked if you were okay. I waited for you.” He paused and looked at Harry with brows creased. “But...you say you love me…”

“Isn't he what you wanted?” Harry redirected. Maybe he should've said something but then maybe Louis should've, too.

“I...thought so…” It was _Cristiano Ronaldo_ they were talking about here, how many people could truthfully claim they would deny him if they ever had the chance? Surely Harry could admit he wouldn't, so Louis didn't see the issue he had. “...but not more than I want you.”

All lint picked from the sock, Harry twisted the soft fabric between his fingers and gazed at the open suitcase where he set aside Niall's clothing. It wasn't a matter of what happened but of what _will_ in the future. They tiptoed around “the talk” for long enough and needed to establish themselves conclusively.

“So, what do we do now?” Harry asked, hushed and low, because he needed Louis to guide him. He trusted Louis more than he trusted himself and believed he'd never steer him wrong. Louis never intended to.

Louis looked back and forth from Harry to the suitcase as though his darting eyes would form words along his line of vision. He concluded it was foolish thinking and irresponsible wanting to make Harry assume a role that didn't belong to him. Louis showed his love by being protective and Harry showed his by letting him.

Harry wasn't protective because he trusted what Louis did, even if it meant Cristiano and unhappiness.

Carefully choosing his phrasing, Louis slowly verbalized, “You didn't want me to go with him, did you?”

It was clear to Louis that Harry would let him do whatever, with whomever, whenever he wanted. It was a loaded question with a simple answer but one that needed a reply. Importantly, Harry needed to understand that it’d be okay to guide him; it'd be okay to guide him away from Cristiano and anyone else he personally considered a threat.

Harry didn't know those reasons but figured Louis had one if he was asking, admitting, “I would've preferred you hadn't…”

Not good enough. “Hazza.”

“No.” He licked his lips, mouth dry, then watched Louis’ moving gaze. “No, I didn't want you dancing with him or kissing him or leaving with him or spending the night somewhere else.”

It was a big moment for Louis and a big step for _them_. Granted, it was a long time coming because two years of being undefined was unusually long and rarely accomplished. Maybe if Cristiano hadn't happened, that moment or step wouldn't have either.

Louis pressed, “You don't want me to do that again, do you?”

Harry grew nervous. The realization of what the dialogue and Louis were talking about hit him like a sucker punch: Louis’ wandering eyes, lowered chin, explicit questions with transparent answers… It wasn't random or avoidable, but he became nervous because of the unknown result and inevitable change.

“I don't,” Harry confirmed. “Not with anyone.”

“Then I won't,” Louis assured and settled his sight on Harry's flushed face.

In his heart, he already knew he needn't ask for the same in return since Harry confessed his dedication already; however, he needed to make _them_ official. He refused to see that look Harry gave him the night he went with Cristiano ever again, seeing how he caused such despair and anguish.

He also refused to watch Harry transform a whole sock into a large cotton ball and leaned over to snatch it from the plucking fingers, scooting his body closer to Harry's.

Harry tucked his bottom lip under his top teeth, hands tingling without the softness to busy them. Fortunately, Louis took them into his own after tossing the sock aside.

He took a drawn out breath, remarking, “Only with me.”

A bell went off in Louis’ head, like winning a game show prize. Although Harry didn't outright say it, he interpreted the words as _exclusive_. He guided Harry to that actualization and couldn't have been happier.

“Then I will,” he promised. Harry met his eyes with a reluctance comparable to knowing an answer but unsure of its accuracy. He clarified, “Only you.”

Putting all reservations to rest, Louis kissed Harry lightly. It was different from the others – not a rushed peck, hesitant brush, or firm press. There was less nerves, urgency, and pressure between their lips. As soon as Harry exhaled through his nose and relaxed, Louis felt absolute bliss; that for a few seconds in this very moment, everything was perfect and only the start of them.


End file.
